


Jack Frost Nipping At Your Nose

by 2queer4here



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 16:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17604938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2queer4here/pseuds/2queer4here
Summary: That year Daryl spent only a handful of days playing in the snow under his big brother's miserable gaze and more days inside trying to make himself small while wishing he were outside.





	Jack Frost Nipping At Your Nose

**Author's Note:**

> Hey is it just me or has tagging things become more difficult on here? Like I go to write out a tag and if ao3 doesn't already have it I can't add it. Kind of bummed out by that :/.

To avoid the responsibility of watching over a young Daryl playing in the snow and just generally out and not bothering their daddy, Merle had told Daryl that leaving his hands out exposed to the cold would surely give him frost bite which the other kids were safe from because they had nice thick mittens (warmed by their mothers love). Frost bite, Merle explained with a serious expression, was when your hands got so cold it felt like the snow you were in had grown teeth and started nipping at you. Your hands would turn the colour of blackberries and if not treated properly at the hospital (that they couldn't afford) your hands would fall off. 

Daryl believed it. Merle was older and his brother and therefore knew almost everything there was to know especially when it came to survival. That year Daryl spent only a handful of days playing in the snow under his big brother's miserable gaze and more days inside trying to make himself small while wishing he were outside. Dark hands from dying tissue and eventual loss sounded better than facing their daddys wrath and mothers indifference. 

And as Daryl grew older he silently carried Merle's lesson with him, even after he learned what frost bite really was and that he wouldn't lose his hands from playing with and in snow. But by the time he was a teenager it had become stuck in brain and morphed into the idea that any form of too cold hands would be stage one of frost bite.

That's why he let it happen. When Merle would come home too drunk or too high complaining about needing a warm space for his too cold hands. And his hands would feel like the chill of death and they'd have to be amputated if Daryl didn't do something right now when he got off his bike and into the house. So Daryl nodded and kept quiet while Merle warmed his fingers to the knuckle inside of him. Merle, ever the talker, would thank him profusely in that odd mocking way of his. 

Then the next day would come and Merle would scrape together some money, God knows how and from God knows where, and buy Daryl a beer or a burger or some other small trinket. Whatever it was it was always handed over with a clipped demand that he keep hushed about the previous night.

It was like Merle was ashamed of having cold hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Will all my fics be titled using song lyrics? Yes.


End file.
